


the stars shine so brightly (until they disappear)

by ArcReactorsandDragons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, harry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23246383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcReactorsandDragons/pseuds/ArcReactorsandDragons
Summary: There is no pure train station or Dumbledore waiting for him when the Boy Who Lived comes to die.Instead there's blood on his hands and no stars in the sky and a cowled figure who speaks lies.
Kudos: 8





	the stars shine so brightly (until they disappear)

A high nasally voice, unlike one he has ever heard before hung in his mind, stretching like a cobweb over his thoughts, interrupting and suggesting. Manipulation. Maybe that is why Harry was in the Forbidden Forest. Or just a forest. He cannot remember how he got here, bare foot and clad in his Muggle clothing, something red on his hands. Nothing to recognise around him.

Harry looked up. There is no moon, no hint of a sliver, of any new moon. He spins around, slowly, always slowly. There are no stars either, no clouds, no  _ nothing _ . Yet there is light enough to see by. Enough for his imagination, his memory, his  _ mind _ , to fill in the gaps, to see the bushes rustling in the wind, for the shadows to twitch, when there is no wind. Only a stillness, that is so overwhelming, like the sun on a humid day, beating down on every relentless soul under it’s awful burning gaze. He wishes it were that, because that would explain the voice in his head telling him to  _ run.  _ To find cover.  _ To hide. _

Harry breaks out in a dead sprint, taking no heed to what is ahead of him, and it doesn’t escape his notice how he passes straight through the trees, tall and twisted and reaching so high into the sky he can’t see the tip of them. They flit past him, grey and brown blurs, and if he wasn’t lost before, he was now. 

He only slows down when he sees a break in the trees and stops suddenly, the sudden lack in movement causing him to skid, breaking moss in half, and landing on his hands and knees. 

He hasn't lost his breath, nor gained it, it's like he's not breathing at all, and he focuses on the ground, feeling his chest move onwards and his spine arch but no breath rushing in, watching bugs skitter around and the the ash like soil split apart the moss like a wound. 

He hears a footsteps tread, but doesn't lift his head, “Where am I.” 

It's not the high nasally voice that greets him, but a meld of voices, neither female nor male, just a crowd of voices, sounding so familiar yet foreign to him all at once, “None of this real”.

“What?” Harry lifts his head and settles back onto his legs, into a kneeling position, staring up at the figure. 

Dressed in a black cloak, shadow clinging to every body part so he couldn't see the figure, “It could be real, of course, it just depends on what you believe”. 

“I don't- I don't understand”.

“People rarely do.” Their voice is like a rumble, a vibration that is felt rather than heard.

“Just, please. Tell me what's happening!”

His hands claw into the moss and a spider runs across his hand, but he doesn't flinch, he's used to spiders in close proximity. 

“You have a choice to make, to stay or to pass on, to see your parents, your family, to never deal with pain, with grief, ever again”. The person approaches and it's face is revealed in stark relief, by what light Harry doesn't know. It's a skull, the grinning teeth and shadowed sockets giving a manic expression, though their voice is somber, “what do you decide?” 

Oh. Harry remembers now. Voldemort. The Boy-Who-Lived, come to die. High laughter and a green flash. Hagrid sobbing. The wide expanse of stars above him, tilting as darkness consumed him.

“You're Death”. It's a statement, not a question, no fear, just acceptance. 

The skull tilts, “I am the servant of death, come to collect you, to guide you home”.

“Why are you giving me a choice then?” Slowly, Harry stands up, and the blood is still on his hands, clinging to the cracks despite his tumble with the ground, it's a reminder, he thinks. Of all the wrong he's done. 

“I was told to. You are special Harry Potter. But it is my job to deliver you, and I can only do my job”.

“What will happen if I go with you?” And maybe he's getting frantic, or maybe he's not, he now can only feel a blissful calm, what's happening at Hogwarts? Is the battle still going? He has to kill Voldemort! 

“You will go to the afterlife, heaven has a place for you.” The entity sounds bored, and it lifts a skeletal hand, an offer to come. 

Oh! Heaven! The sky seems to brighten before his eyes. Heaven is real apparently, and despite all he's done, he being the reason for so many deaths and lives being disrupt-

It's not real. He lets out a sigh of release. It's to good to be true. That's the only reason he would be offered Heaven. Something telling him to go when he has to stay. 

“No!” Harry doesn't mean to shout, but the sound comes out like a gunshot in the cold, "Stop lying to me! I need to stay here!" 

“It's not a- oh well. You've made your choice”. The skeleton abruptly turns on their heel and starts moving away, it's cloak billowing in a non-existent wind, “Good luck, Harry Potter. You'll need it". The last words are whispered in a thousand whispers that caress his mind, speaking volumes and repeating despite their low voice. 

Everything is fading to white, drifting like ash disintegrating before his eyes. The sky seems to pixelate, bright burning spots appearing like stars, bleeding out in a spiderweb of white, “Wait!”

But it's too late, the world tilts on its axis, and it's not him, but the actual world. He braces, toes digging into the hard earth that is rapidly disappearing, his heels tingle like pins and needles as the world pivots with his feet at the axis. The feeling rises as his body sinks into the atmosphere.

The cracked sky is replaced with the stars, and Harry counted each one. There's ink blue and a black so deep it's like a breath of fresh air. The sky's so clear he can see the milky way, pinks and reds and purples and he takes in every hue until his eyes are dry. The world was vibrant once more. 

  
  



End file.
